Catfish
I'm an old catfish
rolling idly
in the mud
under the rushes
under the bridge

A shadow up there -
a human
a leg
a foot
a toe
mmmmm
a toe
Rise . . . Snap!
yuck -
Tastes like shit
but one must
do something
to keep them alert
up there
one has responsibilities

I'm an old catfish
twisting slowly
comfortably
in the cozy mud
poised near bottom
arching back
relaxing gills
warming
waiting

A twinkle up there -
a fire
a flyer
a dragonfly
banking out
of chrysalis on reed
breathing sun
warmth
light
mmmmm
the light

Life sparkles
on its wings
The lake takes shape
in its eyes

I'm an old catfish
veering sleepily
in my mud
eyeing the dragonfly
up there -
That's what I want to be
next time around

Jane Roken lives in Denmark, on the interface between hedgerows and barley fields. She is fond of old tractors, garden sheds, scarecrows and other stuff that, in the due course of time, will ripen into something else. Her writings have been published in many different places, mostly online.

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About the Editor

A.J. Huffman has published thirteen full-length poetry collections, fourteen solo poetry chapbooks and one joint poetry chapbook through various small presses. Her most recent releases, The Pyre On Which Tomorrow Burns (Scars Publications), Degeneration (Pink Girl Ink), A Bizarre Burning of Bees (Transcendent Zero Press), and Familiar Illusions (Flutter Press) are now available from their respective publishers. She is a five-time Pushcart Prize nominee, a two-time Best of Net nominee, and has published over 2600 poems in various national and international journals, including Labletter, The James Dickey Review, The Bookends Review, Bone Orchard, Corvus Review, EgoPHobia, and Kritya. She is the founding editor of Kind of a Hurricane Press.